


Russian Roulette

by Jayson



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-13
Updated: 2012-12-13
Packaged: 2017-11-21 00:46:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 1,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/591535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jayson/pseuds/Jayson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Old work from '08)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Largest

**Author's Note:**

> This'll be the only one of my old fanfictions that I'll upload. I've been wanting to rewrite it but that won't ever happen. Took some advice and I won't be uploading the last chapter. So here you go.

Sadness and sorrow painted the walls of the room as five nations took their proper seat at the round table.  
Their faces were emotionless, looking straight ahead. No one had said a word up to this point, but after everyone was seated, the largest nation giggled.  
"Let's play, da?" He said with a grin on his face.  
The other nation's heads turned to look at him, but they said nothing.  
The large nation pulled a revolver out of his pocket with one hand, and a bullet from his other pocket. He swiftly slipped the bullet into one of the 6 empty chambers. He looked around the room once, he took in everyones face, every little detail of them. The sadness as they all try to accept theirs, or their comrades death. Finally, he spun the chamber, speaking as the gun clicked with every pass "I'm sorry one of us has to go, Good luck to you all~"  
He giggled and pressed the tip to his temple.  
It felt like an hour had passed before the trigger was finally pulled. A quiet click, no bang.  
The large nation let out a small sigh of relief, still trying to show no weakness. His fake, plastic, smile crept back onto his face when the gun was passed to the next in line.


	2. The Gentlemen

The metal of the gun ground against the wooden table until it came to a sound stop in front of it's next potential victim.  
The English man gulped and picked up the revolver. He, as well, held it against his temple, finger on the trigger. His eyes screwed shut as thoughts raced through his mind, He tried to calculate the probability of the gun firing off at this time but it was no luck, he couldn't think straight. He didn't wanna die, he didn't wanna die, he didn't want to die.  
Everyone waited, watched, him in what may be his final moments.  
He couldn't die now, not in front of all these bloody gits.. His enemies.. his friends.. his family.  
The gentlemen opened his eyes, just a crack, and looked around at the faces. His mouth cracked into a small smile when he gaze passed the young man, who he had once raised. He was so big now.. He wasn't his little boy anymore. He was independent, strong and so much more mature than what felt like forever ago. He remembered the feeling, the emotion, of wanting to- no, _needing_ , to protect him.  
His trigger finger, his whole body, shook. His eyes watered, but he only let one single tear fall.  
If this was for him, for his little boy, his little brother, his son, then dying now was okay. If his death meant that there was no chance the younger would die, then it was okay. And with that, he took a deep breath and pulled the trigger..  
But there was only a quiet click like the time before. He wasn't going to die, but right now that felt like a worse fate. He didn't stop any of the tears that were now streaming down his face; He couldn't protect his little boy anymore.  
He wanted to toss the gun across the room, bloody thing didn't know how to fire a bloody bullet, but he didn't. He gently placed it on the table and passed it to the next person on what may be death's row.


	3. The Brother

The gun ground angrily against the table, stopping in front of it's next victim.  
Small, slim, feminine hands picked it up, finger on the trigger. The Asian man saw his reflection on the shiny barrel of the weapon; he looked so aged. Small wrinkles were visible in several places, maybe there was a gray hair or two.  
He frowned at these discoveries. He always knew that he felt old, but he never knew that he looked so much the part. Maybe if he hadn't had to raise all those kids..  
He turned his head slightly, looking at the English man having a break down.  
 _Those kids.._  
Vietnam, Taiwan, Korea, Tibet, Thailand, Japan and Hong Kong..  
The Asian could understand the Brits pain. His brother, son, was still sitting at this table, and at death's doorstep. He, however, had the relief to know all his brothers and sisters would be safe and away from this deadly game of Russian roulette regardless of the outcome.  
Knowing this only made him want to live more, he wanted to see his siblings again. Hong Kong was still at home, waiting for his oldest brother to return and making him some dumplings.  
He took what might be his final breath and pressed the cold metal to his head, finally pulling the trigger.  
But for the third time, nothing happened. The bullet was still hidden in one of the chambers.  
The asian smiled, small tears of joy rolled down his face. When he got home, he was going to hug Hong Kong to death, then take him to visit all their departed brothers and sisters.  
He placed the gun neatly on the table and pushed it to the person beside him.


	4. The Lover

The gun stopped just short of the person next in line, but it was quickly retrieved by the strong, yet elegant hand.  
Blue eyes reflected against the shiny surface of the revolver. The hand, extended into long, slender fingers and topped off with perfectly manicured nails, gracefully turned the gun towards it's holder. His head shook slightly, gold curls adjusting before the cylindrical shaft pushed it's way past them, to rest against the skull.  
The Frenchmen's body was covered sweat, something he was.. very familiar with, due to the great amount of lust he possessed. Although lust was far from the cause of it this time, much to the Frenchies displeasure.  
His lashes fluttered over his emotion filled eyes, memories of many years past flooded his memory. Many past lovers, friends and even his family. Though they weren't as close as they once were, he still remembered them.  
Listening to the wet sobs of the Brit, the Frenchmen accepted his possible fate. He had never been a good friend to the Brit, despite him being possibly his closest family, he thought of one final way he could make it up. Though the American was slightly his son, he was much more to the Englishmen then anyone could imagine. Saving that boy would be the greatest thing anyone could do for the Brit, and the Frenchmen decided to try and do just that.  
His body ceased to sweat, his breath was calm and collected and he smiled contently. The Englishmens face was covered in tears, looking like a waterfall had made it's way from his eyes. He watched the Frenchie closely, and the Frenchmen gave him a reassuring smile, his plan was silently being said to the Brit.  
The Englishmen smiled slightly, but the tears and sniffles never stopped.  
The Frenches finger tightened, clenching around the trigger and pulling it.  
There was nothing, just a soft pop.  
The Brits sobs and tears started all over again, and even the French couldn't stop his own quiet weeping.  
The next would die, but at least he could go back and see his little one, something England will never get to do..  
He went to place the gun down, but instead it was plucked eagerly from his hand.


	5. The Hero

His emotion couldn't have been any more inappropriate then it was, but you wouldn't expect anything else from the American.  
"My turn, my turn!" He shouted, the first words to be verbally said through this whole ordeal.  
Finally he got to be the hero, the one who saved everyone and someone everyone would remember. He looked at the gun emotionally, a single tear rolling down his cheek and crashing against the surface of it. He looked back up, at everyone.  
They may not have known it, but he loved them all unconditionally. They were his closest friends, family even.  
He was glad he got to be the one who died, everyone would remember him as the hero. He would be the one who died so no one else had to. Though, going first and being killed would have be way more awesome and memorable, this was fine too.  
He felt all soft and warm on the inside as he thought about everyone, all their memories of good and bad together.  
Truly, this was the meaning of being a hero as far as he was concerned.  
His mind came back to reality, and his senses returned. He felt a warm wetness on his face, which he quickly identified as tears. He swiftly wiped them away, _a hero **never** cries._  
He spun the gun on his trigger finger, before grasping it completely and shoving the tip against his temple.  
This was it.. This was the end of a great nation..  
He pulled the trigger and all that was heard was a soft pop. The American blinked confusedly, quickly examining the gun;  
The bullet was in the sixth and final chamber.  
The room was silent, not a single word or sob was heard, until finally, as always, the American ruined the silence.  
He tossed the gun on the table beside himself and cheered.  
No one had to die, the best ending possible in anyones mind.


	6. The Forgotten

Soft blue eyes watched the cheering, he smiled a gentle and kind smile. His friends, his brother, his dad and papa were all safe, that was the best ending of all. Everyone seemed to not notice him, they all seemed too happy for their own lives.  
He looked at his brother, though they never did see eye to eye, he was still family and he loved him dearly. Then he looked at his dad, a cold fellow at times, but when the bad came out, he was always there to help. Finally, his papa, though he was awfully perverted most of the time, he was still a good person, always there to put him back on his feet when need be, and forgotten far less by him.  
Forgotten indeed was a trend when he was around. Even when he picked up the gun, he was overlooked. He placed his furry companion on the ground, and patted his head, the same gentle smile still present on his face.  
The cold metal was pressed against his head, it reminded him of home, in the winter with snow and ice, and that comforted him.  
It wasn't until the trigger was pulled, and a loud bang filled the air did everyone realize what had happened.


End file.
